


headed straight for the castle

by wynnebat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M, Post-Thor (2011), Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: “I am Loki,” he says in reply. He doesn’t continue. He is not of Asgard when he has forsaken it, he cannot claim to be an Odinson when it was never true. He certainly cannot claim to be a Laufeyson after killing his true father in cold blood. Loki is the only name he has.“I know,” is Harry’s reply.“How could you possibly know?”Harry shrugs. “I tend to know things. Perk of the job.”“And what is your job?”Harry turns to him, green eyes light. “Keeper of the keys.”
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Harry Potter
Comments: 42
Kudos: 1610





	headed straight for the castle

In the end, it is easy to let go.

He meets Odin’s eyes long enough to endure his father’s disappointment one last time. Of course that’s what Odin thinks of him, the disappointing adopted son, now gone mad in addition to everything else. The threads of Loki’s very existence keep slipping away from him. Only days ago, he knew who he was, and he knew the measure of Thor and Odin’s hearts. Now, Thor has changed on him, grown noble despite Loki’s best efforts, and the possibility of pleasing Odin has disappeared. His heart aches at the thought of his Frigga, but there is no solace to be found there, not when she is content with Odin’s decisions, when she tells him there is a reason to everything Odin does.

There is nothing for him in Asgard.

He has no wish to face justice for his crimes, no wish to fake repentance and beg forgiveness. His stomach churns at the very thought of it. There is nothing inside him to support a facade, only a horrible emptiness. It is Thor he looks to when he lets go. Thor, whose eyes are so wide, who never seems to expect Loki’s tricks and yet succeeded despite them.

Loki would dare him to succeed now.

The void encircles him as he falls.

Loki knows the paths between worlds well, but he has never walked them as unprepared as he is now. He clings to his magic and to the stars he knows, but the void is dark and unshakable.

If he cannot live—and he won’t resign himself to death, not just yet, not while he has magic and breath left—death will perhaps be the only justice he will accept.

Not for his crimes or his true form, for Loki is too numb to feel remorse, but for the folly of assuming he could ever win against Thor. It was madness to even attempt it. And yet he’s tried, time and again searching for approval in Odin’s eyes and esteem in Thor’s. He’d grown complacent with his mother’s love, unable to imagine she could hide a truth so vital and cruel.

Somehow, he had allowed himself to forget just how cruel life could be.

He laughs as darkness overtakes him until he can see nothing, feel nothing, and no one will ever know his laughter has turned to tears.

*

Within the darkness, Loki breathes.

His breath stutters and chokes until he forces himself to calm, getting used to the ability to feel his body once more. There is something rough and wet beneath him, cold enough to jar him out of his confusion to scramble up. He moves his limbs forward like a colt learning to walk. A kaleidoscope of colors spins across his eyes until he blinks his way through the shock of actually seeing something.

He stands on a small beach that is more rock than sand, a large lake behind him and a castle before him. It is not what Loki had expected of the afterlife. He cannot even be certain that this is death; he feels his magic thrum under his skin, weakened but more stable than it had been. This is his body, the one he’d worn for centuries, fluid and changing but all his own. Loki does not feel dead. It is a relief.

The sun shines brightly up ahead, pleasant on his chilled skin. Loki dries himself with a flicker of magic. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a man approach.

He wears no weapons or armor, which does little to assure Loki of the lack of a threat. Mages of the highest caliber have no need of such things unless they prefer the look of them. Had he not been so unsure of where he was, he would not have considered the approaching man to be anything but human. The man is wearing pants that Loki is mostly sure are called jeans and a shirt with the image of a skeleton holding a scythe in one hand and a gaudy crown in another.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the man says as he comes to a stop some paces away. Despite his words, he doesn’t sound angry. If anything, he sounds amused. “Meddlesome fates.”

Loki can’t say he knows what he means. He is grateful to be here instead of dead—or, knowing the void, worse than dead—but nothing makes sense here. He stands atop sand and rocks, and he sees nature and a castle, and yet he can sense the void in every particle of this place. It is disconcerting. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Hogwarts, of course,” the man replies, smiling faintly. “You may not have arrived here on purpose, but Hogwarts welcomes everyone. Come on.” He turns around, expecting Loki to follow him, and without any other avenue, Loki does. “I’m Harry.”

“Harry of Hogwarts?” Loki has never heard of him, but that’s impossible. There is power inside this man unlike any that Loki has ever felt, strong yet calm, like the stone of the very castle Harry leads him to. Harry is a Midgardian name, but they are certainly not on Midgard.

“You can say that.” Harry doesn’t seem concerned about it. He doesn’t seem to be concerned about the fact that a man still dressed in battle clothes washed up on his impossible lake. He doesn’t even seem to care whether Loki introduces himself in return. Instead of feeling insulted, Loki is oddly relieved.

“I am Loki,” he says in reply. He doesn’t continue. He is not of Asgard when he has forsaken it, he cannot claim to be an Odinson when it was never true. He certainly cannot claim to be a Laufeyson after killing his true father in cold blood. Loki is the only name he has.

“I know,” is Harry’s reply.

“How could you possibly know?”

Harry shrugs. “I tend to know things. Perk of the job.”

“And what is your job?”

Harry turns to him, green eyes light. “Keeper of the keys.” He pats his pockets and retrieves a key so large it could not have possibly fit there without magic. “See?” But he slips the key back inside his pocket, since the grand doors of Hogwarts are unlocked. The interior is also made of stone, with rugs covering the floors and tapestries and paintings adorning the walls. Harry drifts off through the main hallway. “You look hungry.”

Loki can’t tell whether that is true. He’s spent the last few days not thinking of the needs of his body, trying to focus on anything but his physical form. Now, he’s shaken and tired and perhaps he could eat. “I believe I am.”

Another set of doors opens as they approach. Harry pats the wall as if in thanks. Loki stops in the doorway, unable to come to terms with what he sees. The room is large. Several hearths burn at the right and left walls. Four tables standing vertically, plus another smaller one horizontal against the far wall. But it is the people who sit at these tables that cause him to nearly stumble as he follows Harry. He sees Midgardians and Kree and Dark Elves and all manner of peoples and races. Kree and Skrulls who sit beside each other without attempting violence. A human chats amiably with a Flora Colossus. There are several Frost Giants in the room. One holds a musical instrument Loki does not recognize.

In the span of days, Loki has gained and lost a crown, and yet it is this that he finds more impossible.

Harry sits down at the center of the head table. His chair is no different from the others’, but Loki can see the way the others’ attention turns toward him. Loki takes the chair to Harry’s left. A Centaurian sits to his other side.

“We have another lost soul,” Harry announces to the others at the table. “His name is Loki. Don’t scare him off.”

“We don’t bite,” the Centaurian says to him. Her voice is deep, her smile gentle. “Although you are different from the rest of us, aren’t you?”

“He’s alive,” says a Light Elf from the other end of the table. “Isn’t that interesting.”

“Not that interesting,” says someone else, whose species Loki cannot even name.

 _Of course I am alive,_ Loki thinks, but for it to be unusual... It is then that Loki truly sees this place for what it is. He sits in the kingdom of the dead. It is a surprisingly cheerful place.

After the meal—breakfast, lunch, dinner, it cannot matter in a place where even time succumbs to the chaos of the void—Harry shows Loki to a quiet wing of the castle, where he announces Loki’s quarters will be. A door appears at his words.

“Am I to stay here?” Loki asks, wondering at the terms of his time in this place.

Harry looks at him strangely. “You can go anywhere. There are no locked doors besides personal quarters, but be careful. Hogwarts can be a maze even for those of us who have lived here a long time. I’ve had people get lost in the dungeons for days. They always get cross at me for that, so I’ve started warning newcomers.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “You can leave whenever you wish. I thought you might like to get some sleep first.”

Loki inclines his head. He is weary. He also has nowhere to go. No one expects his presence.

The room is green and silver-themed. There are clothes in the dresser that Loki doesn’t have to try on to know are his size. He has his choice of black robes and Midgardian clothes. But for now, the spell he uses to block the entrances to his room holds, and the bed is soft beneath him.

Loki sleeps, and doesn’t dream.

*

He is still tired in the morning. It is a bone-deep tiredness that not even a good night’s sleep can cure, but it can lessen it, can make it feel less like the world is closing in on him. Here, far away from Asgard, Loki can almost breathe. Here, he is Loki, only Loki, and it does not matter who he is to the people around him. Only to Loki himself.

Heedless of Harry’s warning, Loki wanders the castle. No one stops him.

The inhabitants of the castle ignore him or say quick pleasantries without stopping. It is good; Loki does not have much to say. His thoughts are too heavy, his limbs too tired. The castle is without end. Its staircases move, its hallways twist, and it does not resemble any structure Loki has seen before. When he makes up his mind to go outside, the first door he tries leads him to the outdoors. Grass grows tall and thick, and in the distance there is a wall of mist, as though this strange world could not decide on its boundaries.

Loki stands there for quite a while, letting the rays of sun warm his face.

He wonders what Thor is doing now. It hurts too much to think of Odin and Frigga, but Thor has been a thorn in Loki’s side for a very long time. The coin toss of love and hatred he feels for Thor is not new. It has not gained a horrible dimension; Loki can say much about Thor, but Thor did not know of Loki’s origins. That blame can only rest with Odin and Frigga.

Loki is good at blame. There is a part of him that is darkly delighted that he finally has an explanation for the way he his—the way he was so out of place in Asgard, the way he would have never been made king. It makes sense. If only it didn’t hurt so much, too.

He starts to walk and doesn’t stop. The mist parts around him and he finds himself at the edge of a lake. Loki can neither see down to its depths, nor can he see through the mist at the far edges of the lake. As far as his vision is concerned, it could be endless. A touch of magic doesn’t dispel the mist.

Thor would try to use his hammer. Loki has a moment of scorn, of humor, of a terrible sort of duality that he cannot bear, until he sees a picture form on the surface of the water.

It is Thor.

He stands on the broken edge of the bridge where Loki fell and looks out into the distance.

“Loki,” Thor says, and does not continue. He isn’t speaking to Loki. He can’t see him, not looking out into the void as he is.

Thor has never been good with words. He simply stands there, looking like a lost horse, and Loki hates him for every feeling that the sight invokes in him. Loki’s anger burns, as it should; the rest of his emotions corrode his anger.

A figure joins Thor at his post. Sif’s dark hair flutters in the wind. “Will you come inside? You must be hungry.”

“Just a moment,” Thor says. He does not move.

With a soft sound, Sif touches his shoulder, and shares a look with Thor. “This won’t bring him back.”

“I know.”

She stands with him for a long time. Sif cannot possibly mourn him, but she loves Thor. Perhaps she mourns the hope she had for gaining his love, now that his heart is occupied by a human woman. Yet another thing that Loki does not understand. He is a being of chaos, of magic, but he cannot revel the madness his life has fallen into.

“He grieves you,” says the man who has stood silently next to Loki for several moments.

Loki glances in Harry’s direction before turning to the water. Sif has left. It is only Thor now. Loki wonders if Thor thinks his anguish is anywhere near Loki’s. Always self-centered, his brother.

“He’s an idiot,” Loki replies. It has been true for centuries and now it is doubly so. “What is this?”

“This is the Black Lake. It shows you the world of the living—and anything else it thinks you should see. I try to avoid it as much as possible. There are many things that you’re better off not knowing.”

“What did it tell you about me?” There is a sharp note in Loki’s voice.

Harry shrugs. “I knew you were a prince of Asgard. Not much more. I don’t… get out much.”

“You don’t miss being alive?”

“I am alive,” Harry corrects. He scratches his chin and kicks a rock into the ocean. “Probably. The difference between life and death is just a matter of grammar.”

“I would think it is a matter of violence or disease,” Loki remarks. This whole conversation is odd. He’s enjoying it. “This is the afterlife, then?”

Harry shakes his head. “It’s a doorway. People usually know where they want to go when they die. We help them get there, whether it’s Valhalla or heaven or the thousands of other afterlives.”

“And you are their leader?”

“Not officially. Lady Death visits sometimes, but it’s up to me to make sure things stay organized and balanced.”

“Then she is real,” Loki murmurs. “And Lady Life?”

“She keeps her own counsel,” Harry says with a shrug. “You won’t see her here.”

Loki nods. There is only one more question that he must ask. “How do I leave?”

Harry smiles. It’s a rather nice one, pleasantly mischievous. “You go for a swim.”

“I assume the water is cold.”

“Icy. You’ll come out the other side with seaweed in your shoes and holding a live fish.”

“Pleasant,” Loki mutters. It takes him a few moments to admit, “I don’t want to leave yet.”

“Then stay,” Harry is quick to say. Loki hates how easily he says it. How easy it is to offer him hospitality, respect, when there was so little of it in Asgard for him. Harry offers him his hand. “Come on. I’ll show you around the grounds. You haven’t even seen the maze yet.”

“Is that not the castle?” Loki asks, and takes his hand.

Harry’s skin is warm. Loki expected no differently, for all that he is practically in the afterlife.

*

The next time Loki approaches the lake, there is a stone bench at its edge. With a huff, he sits down, and lets the lake show him Asgard. It is Odin who stands sentinel now. Loki would give anything to know his thoughts, no matter how easily Odin is able to hurt him.

When he senses Harry’s approach, Loki says, “I didn’t imagine Odin would mourn me.”

Harry sits down next to him. “He lost you. All else aside, you were his. And now you’re gone from him for as long as you wish to be.”

Loki closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he finds that Thor has joined Odin. Side by side, they stand, one in his prime and the other past it.

“I was never meant to be king,” Loki says. “I only wanted to be seen. And now I have been seen for the monster I am.”

Harry looks him up and down. “You’re hardly a monster.”

“I am—” Loki cuts off. He cannot say it.

Harry says it for him, so breezily that Loki doesn’t flinch at his words. “A Jotun. So is Anae. She goes fishing in this lake and has had a feud with the Giant Squid for three centuries. When she takes Jotun souls to the afterlife, she does so kindly, and works in the ever-fertile fields of their afterlife when she chooses to visit her family. She has descendants and ancestors. She has killed in war and loved in peace.”

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Is it working?”

“It is tiring.”

In the water, Thor says, “There will never be a wiser king than you. Or a better father.”

“Never mind, he’s still an idiot,” Harry says, passing Loki a bowl of strange yellow-white circular objects. “Have some popcorn.”

Loki takes one. “It’s dry.”

Harry pops a few in his mouth. “It’s good. You haven’t gotten the taste for it yet.” He waves a hand at the surface of the lake. “Does it matter, what they think of you? Or what they think at all?”

“ _If_ they think at all.”

“If,” Harry agrees, grinning. “What does it matter, really?”

“You must be very self-assured to say such a thing.”

“Or just old,” Harry admits. “I don’t know how old I am. Time moves differently here. Sometimes I feel as ancient as the stars, other times it feels like only yesterday that I met Lady Death for the first time.”

It strikes him then and there how different Harry must be to say such a thing. Asgardians live long lives, but they remain aware of their mortality, of how long they have lived.

“What is she like?” Loki asks. “How did you meet?”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment, as if in remembrance. “I collected three objects that made me the Master of Death. I later learned that Lady Death was searching more for a Mr. Death than a Master of Death. A helper, I suppose. It was a test. I passed.”

“A servant?” Loki asks, frowning. Harry does not act like a servant.

Harry laughs. “No. We found a way to meet in the middle, although on the rare occasion I collect souls myself, I do introduce myself as Mr. Death. Lady Death needed another set of hands. It’s... complicated. The multiverse matures and grows just like any realm does. You Asgardians weren’t always the space-faring bunch you are now, and the multiverse used to be smaller. More contained.”

“What happened?”

“Magic happened,” Harry says, true fondness in his gaze, only some of which isn’t directed toward Loki. “Lady Death said she was shocked to the core when she put to rest the first little magical soul. And then others followed. One by one, then eventually there were peoples and races and planets and universes where magic thrives. My own universe has a whole society of magical humans on Earth. We think there’s a Lady or Lord Magic forming—another multidimensional being like Lady Death—perhaps still young and unaware of their status.”

 _What will they think of me?_ Loki thinks and does not say. The disgraced prince of Asgard, the trickster, the Jotun.

“I think they’ll like you.”

Loki turns sharply to Harry, but Harry is not looking at him. He’s looking out at the lake and smiling slightly. Unbidden, unwanted, unexpected, a small smile forms on Loki’s lips.

“What about you?” Loki asks, already knowing the answer.

Harry turns to him and doesn’t deny it. “I like you, too.”

*

It is weeks until Loki decides he is ready to leave.

He can stay. He would know it even if Harry and Anae and a few of the others hadn’t told him so. The castle itself welcomed him, no longer a maze of corridors. Staircases moved to meet him and hallways led him where he wished to go. So often, that was toward Harry. Loki can’t deny that he feels at peace here, unlike any other time in his life. This could be his home if he wished it. He could abandon Asgard altogether.

But if he does so, he would never be able to ask Odin and Frigga the questions he needed to ask. At first, all he felt was thoughtless anger, but Loki can’t keep himself from thinking for long. He would find his answers.

If he stayed, he wouldn’t be able to mock Thor or trick entire societies. He wouldn’t feel natural sunlight on his face. He wouldn’t grow or change. In a way, it is _too_ perfect here.

“Can I come back?” Loki asks, standing on the edge of the lake. The bench had been gone when he arrived here this morning. He wouldn’t need it anymore. On the surface of the water, Loki’s rooms appear. No one has been able to breech his spells in the time he has been here. For all that his rooms are Loki felt most content in Asgard, they do not inspire the same type of feeling that Hogwarts does.

“Of course,” Harry says, looking at Loki with undeserved fondness. “You know how to come here. Now that I know of you, I will always catch you.”

Loki takes a step toward the water. Instead of jumping in, he turns back to press a kiss against Harry’s lips. He likes the surprised sound that Harry makes, and more so, he likes the way Harry doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back.

It doesn’t feel like a goodbye.

It feels like — _hello, welcome, this is right_.

Loki can leave now and return in a day or in a year, and he will be welcome. It is a terrifying and appealing thing.

“Take care of yourself, Loki,” Harry murmurs as they let each other go. “If you die, I will guide you to the afterlife myself, but I would rather you lived.”

Loki smiles. It comes more easily to him now, despite the fast approach of his return to Asgard. “Death would be too boring for one such as myself. I hate to be idle.”

“I know,” Harry says, and touches his cheek.

For a moment, Loki allows himself to take his hand. But that moment ends and he steps into the water, allowing it to take him. The last thing he sees is Harry’s face looking back at him and the impression of a woman who appears next to Harry. The next thing he knows, he is on the floor of his bedroom, looking up at the ceiling. Loki stands up, shakes off the dust, and smiles. There is work to be done, but he is looking forward to his next visit to Hogwarts already.

With a touch of magic, Loki disappears.

*

A figure replaces Loki on the water’s edge. Harry glances at her and says, lightly and without reproach, “You’ve been watching us. I assume you are the reason he fell to Hogwarts?”

“He was already so close. It was the work of a moment to change his path to lead here instead of to Thanos’ realm.”

“Good call,” Harry replies, a shiver running through him at the thought of Loki in Thanos’ clutches. “You are going to deal with Thanos, aren’t you?”

“I decided I would leave that duty to my successor. You know how he gets. Even his soul is sticky.”

“My lady, you are terribly cruel.”

Lady Death ignores his comment. “You didn’t tell him. Why?”

“He’s not ready to hear it yet,” Harry replies, thinking back on how Loki looked when he arrived at Hogwarts. He’s doing better now, but he is still very grounded in his struggles of the world of the living. “He has yet to reconcile himself with one of his identities. I don’t want to add to his load by making him aware of another. Besides, he’ll be back.”

“Neither did you tell him of your upcoming promotion,” she adds.

“Irrelevant details,” Harry replies airily.

“You just didn’t want to spook him.”

“Maybe,” Harry admits. Loki isn’t the type to be easily spooked, but there’s a difference between the keeper of the keys and the future Lord of Death. It is quite a lot to wrap one’s head around. He still doesn’t understand where Lady Death will go after she passes her title on to him. The next great adventure is a very broad term when it comes to the deities of existence. “I could feel his future with every step he took. Everything is going to change once he comes into his power.”

“He must live long enough to meet his fate. I trust you will look out for him.”

“You know I will,” Harry says to the empty air around him.

Lady Death never sticks around for long.

On the surface of the lake, Loki is making a dramatic entrance into Asgard. Harry watches him for a moment, then turns around, returning to his duties. He will know if Loki is in need of help. The threads of fate have settled in. In time, Loki will bring in a new era of magic. Harry can’t wait.

Time passes.

Harry still can’t put a finger on how much time, but Loki will be sure to tell him. Feeling a pull, Harry approaches the lake and looks out at the water. Loki doesn’t linger on the remnants of the bridge. He turns to face the void and raises a hand to Harry, then steps off. He falls with purpose this time.

As he always will, Harry catches him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm also on [Tumblr](https://wynnefic.tumblr.com/).


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